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four. 4.
Tomorrow she turns four. She loves unicorns and princess and dresses and cuddling with her daddy. We love her knock knock jokes and the way she pronounces “ch” and her quick laughter and her many names. One. Two. Three. Four. Piper, we just could not love you more.
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vanilla. vanilla beans. vodka.
This week I took my two-year-old son into a liquor store. (Or do people call them ABC stores?) I didn’t dare let the kid get out of my arms. Have you seen what they keep in that place? Like a bazillion glass bottles all stacked precariously high in tiny rows. It was the second time in my life that I…
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we weren’t just picking grapes.
We don’t live on a farm. But I used to. And even though I thought the cows smelled rotten and I vowed to never marry a dairy farmer living on a farm taught me a few things. I know where food comes from. That a cow has to die if I want a burger. And I know that people make…
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and there’s a video
Needle Felting: A Timberdoodle Review
one of those . . . weeks
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at that point: the anniversary post.
Sometime near the end of summer camp it happened. Our marriage made it to Year Sixteen. Sixteen years in. We’re at that point in our years together that our wedding gifts are looking pretty battered. A decade and half of years will do that, you know. The couple of towels that are still remaining after all those years are shaggy…
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impossible.
It would be impossible to sum up a week of Nothing and a week of Everything in one little blog post. I’m not even going to try. We stayed here. And it was fabulous. A mountain house in the woods of Georgia. Graciously loaned to us from some unbelievably kind friends. Enough beds for everyone. A private suite for Otto…
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busy. busy. dreadfully busy.
The last few days have been busy. A good busy, but busy. Summer ending. Lesson plans being prepared. (Who knew teaching four high school classes to my daughter would take so much preparation? Oh, wait – I did.) Camp drawing to a close. Annual camp-ending traditions being observed and embraced. Oh – and raising six children who have ambitiously declared…
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these days
These are the types of days that you can’t manufacture. The days that I want to store up and stack up until they fall over. Teetering and towering on the edge. These are the days that quality time just doesn’t register and it all comes down to quantity time. It’s an abundance of time, plain and simple, that allowed these…
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a tradition (apparently a year in the making)
Yesterday was just one of those days. The kind of days that are just fun and silly and one of the reasons why I enjoy living at a summer camp. Last summer after camp ended our friend Andrew sat over at our house one afternoon and had dreadlocks put in his hair by our friend Stacy. It seems that was…
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how I would like to appear.
I’m always seeing other moms out with their kids as my kids and I are running errands, grocery shopping and just living life. And some of these moms seem just plain miserable. Which makes me wonder, how many times do I appear the same way? What do I look like when someone catches that ten second glimpse of my life…
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Southern Nightlife
I love the kind of adventure that just sort of finds you. It has been way too long since my friend Mandy and I had taken a girls night out. So long, in fact, that we couldn’t even figure out where to go actually. We ended up in downtown Greer and decided to try out a local joint called The…
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beautiful boy.
Dear Bergen, I love how you cuddle with me. You push into my side with such fierce determination that I think you would allow yourself to be absorbed into my very skin if that was somehow possible. I love how you do nearly every thing with abandonment. Even eating chocolate ice cream. You are beautiful to me. And you are…
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little eyes.
I was sitting at the dinner table. Completely zoned out. Staring into space. London interrupted my intergalactic moment. “Why did you do that thing with your lip, Mommy?” “What thing?” I asked. I had no idea what I had been doing. “This thing – ” And she demonstrated. And then she explained, “That’s the thing you do with your lip…
